Black Drabbles
by iguanablogger
Summary: *Haven't read the manga yet, based on the anime for now* Just a bunch of random oneshots with our favorite Earl, his Butler, and their little friends...
1. 1

Sebastian hoped she'd come back.

Funny, the butler couldn't help thinking, that he should use that word. Hope. What an odd notion, so random, clearly he'd spent too long in the company of humans. For how can one place his trust, or 'hope', in an event that has no right to happen again?

And yet, the demon wished it would. Whenever he thought of that night his heart would swell, and that was quite a claim in itself.

Nothing, absolutely nothing made it past Sebastian's outer skin. Not bullets, not knives, not emotions. And yet she had waltzed right past his defenses and settled in his breast like a hot cup of tea. Frankly, if he weren't so busy being enamored he'd be upset. She teased him, made a fool out of him, actually. Played with him like putty in her beautiful, tiny hands.

As he watched her leave the manor, silent as a shadow, Sebastian's belief in her return grew stronger. After all, he was completely irresistible and he knew it- nothing in the mortal plane could stand against his desires. If Sebastian Michaelis couldn't charm an entire dimension of existence, well, what sort of butler would he be?

So it annoyed him how impervious she was. He stared at her with the passion and intensity of all hell's fires, and all she did was blink and lick her lips. Any other being would tremble and cry, but she had the audacity to look out the window, pretending to take interest in a passing bird.

When she came back (_when, not if)_, he would teach her a lesson. He would teach that insolent female not to discard a demon's affections. He loved her and by Satan, she would _feel _it.

He called her name suddenly, and to his surprise she stopped.

In the rising sun she looked even more magnificent than ever, pink light dancing in her dark hair. Big, round eyes turned to him, innocent yet cunning. Sebastian could hardly believe a blush had settled in his cheeks.

The demon only smiled. He could find nothing to say. Hopefully, she detected his secret wish, his unspoken dream. Was it his imagination, or was she nodding?

Either way, she was gone within the next five minutes. Sebastian couldn't argue with that. He had work as well, seeing as the servants would need waking soon. Ah, what a day it would be…

Sebastian turned back inside, still grinning. She'd come back. He'd left some catnip on the porch.


	2. 2

His butler noted that the Lord Phantomhive was being rather quiet. Sebastian considered this silence while he poured tea. In the end, he attributed it to his master's many deep and spontaneous questions about the demon's history and tried to predict what Ciel would say next.

"Sebastian."

The demon straightened, smiling. He had guessed correctly.

"Tell me," Ciel paused, but quickly blinked such hesitation away, "about your previous master."

Sebastian returned his attention to his lord's drink as he began, "Very well, sir. I might start with the fact that it was a mistress, one of the few I've ever had."

"Mistress?" The young earl repeated.

His butler nodded and replaced the lid on the teapot, "Indeed. She was a young woman, happily married and rearing a child."

Ciel asked, amused, "And what would so rosy a lady want with the likes of you?"

Sebastian appeared sorrowful for a moment. He placed the cup of hot liquid at the edge of his lord's desk and explained:

"Five years after her daughter's birth, my mistress' home was pillaged.

"Her husband was murdered before her eyes, and the little girl she loved so dearly ripped from her arms."

Ciel's amusement faded, and his eye implored that Sebastian proceed.

The demon sighed. Despite the snide claims of the grim reapers and angels, he did not enjoy his masters' suffering. It gave him no pleasure to watch their torment. In all honesty, he meant to aid them. To give those helpless, empty individuals something to live for, if only for a little while.

"The killers assumed her dead, but somehow she survived the sacking. She knew in her soul that her child had not perished and she began to search.

"My mistress travelled from village to village, begging for information. But every day brought less direction, until finally she slid into the hollows of despair."

The young earl sipped his tea, listening intently.

"It was in that black, faithless void that I offered my services. I had been monitoring her quest and found her determination a most pleasing quality in a soul."

Involuntary shudders traced Ciel's spine as he remembered his own deal with the devil. That empty space had been a most unforgiving plane. A place where everything was stripped of its emotional meaning and all that remained were facts. Just thinking of it returning there set the earl on edge.

"Our contract was simple, as always. She would use my talents to find and rescue her daughter, and once the little girl was safe… my mistress' soul belonged to me.

"She named me 'Gabriel'." Sebastian recalled, a hint of fondness in his voice.

"The angel of protection?"

"Yes," the butler nodded, "I suppose it gave her a sense of hope. I revealed myself to her in the appearance of her deceased spouse, and adopted the role to any who asked."

"After several months of tracking, I was able to locate my mistress' child. She was being transported south, towards the desert. My mistress ordered me to recover the girl and return the two of them to England."

"Why the desert?" Ciel asked.

"It seemed she was to be sold to an Arabian prince, young master." Sebastian replied, "A fate most horrid for a five-year-old, I must say."

"So you rescued her. What happened after that?"

"Upon our arrival home, my mistress delivered her child to safety. I allowed them many hours together, and I had never heard my mistress laugh before that day."

The butler's face grew soft, as though he could see the happy mother and daughter now.

"And…" Ciel prompted slowly, "then what?"

Sebastian stared at the Phantomhive, shaken from his memories. The demon frowned and said, "My lord, surely you know what followed. Are you certain you wish me to-?"

"I want you to tell me." Ciel insisted.

Sebastian inhaled, "At sunset, I escorted her to my pavilion. I was in awe of her compliance, as my last master had begged and pleaded for his soul long after I'd fulfilled his wish.

"She asked me," Sebastian paused, gauging how much to say. Then he continued, "She asked me if she would see her husband again. It was the one of the only times I have ever lied."

"I was gentle," the butler assured his lord, "and I kept the feast short, out of respect for the fine human she had been. But I am afraid she still suffered a great deal."

Silence fell upon the two as Sebastian moved to take the earl's empty cup. Ciel folded his hands on his desk, contemplating the demon's words deeply.

"What happened to the little girl?"

Michaelis replied, "She was taken to my mistress' sister, where she was raised. While I had no master I took it in my hands to visit every decade or so."

"And is she still alive?"

The butler assembled his used dishes neatly in preparation for their washing, "I suppose she is. Why?"

-TT-

Another board leapt from the window and collapsed onto the floor loudly. Meadow sighed and wrung her hands from the washbasin. That rotten window refused to stay fixed, and sooner or later she'd just have to brick the wall up over it.

As the woman dried her fingers, she pondered how she would persuade her husband to take up more of the handiwork in their cottage. Everything was falling to pieces, and the pieces were being consumed by pests. Honestly, how did the old man expect their grandchildren to visit when the floor was not safe for human feet?

With a heavy sigh, Meadow made her way to the offensive window and stuck her head from it, craning her neck to survey the damage. Said limb popped noisily, and the woman was forced to admit that at fifty-two, she should rethink her retirement plan.

However, the moldy wooden frame only held her attention for a few moments. It was the rumbling of the carriage on the road that made her stare.

Two fine, blinkered horses came to a halt outside her home. The wagon, beautiful and rich as Meadow ever saw, sat motionless behind them. A man climbed down from the driver's seat and moved to the door. As soon as the carriage's exit was open, a cloaked figure in a hat appeared on the scene.

The carriage driver turned to Meadow's house and appraised it with his eyes. Then his gaze turned to the old woman's and lingered.

Meadow's chest tightened and her head was suddenly filled with buzzing. The servant continued to watch her with glistening red eyes and a cruel smile.

A smile Meadow remembered.


	3. 3

If there had been any humans in the vicinity, they surely would've been convinced that madness had come to claim them. The woods were silent, empty, nothing moved but the drops of dew from tree branches. Mist snaked around the stumps of tall conifers, and there was a chill in the air.

Nevertheless, the spider continued to mend its web, unperturbed by the lack of life. It was a horrid thing: big, hairy with limber arms spinning its threads. What was most curious about the arachnid was the yellow marking on its abdomen.

Not that there were any humans about to be curious.

Nothing bothered the spider. A large quadrant of its habitant had been rent by a broken stick, and there was much repairing to do. The woods stayed quiet as though observing the little monster's work.

Until the raven came.

The raven landed with much fanfare, flapping its large wings about and stamping at the hard ground with its talons. The bird's commotion caused the spider to halt in its web and turn. It stared down at the raven motionlessly. One might have noted that the intruder seemed almost uncomfortable having infringed the arachnid's territory.

If one had been around to note.

"Bother."

A voice filled the forest, loud and arrogant. Its owner could not be found.

"I'm afraid I've yet to accustom to these wretched things. How do birds ever get around with them, I wonder?"

Another voice replied, this one much quieter. It chuckled.

"Only you would be concerned with your appearance rather than your purpose in the mortal realm..."

The raven stopped preening itself and scanned the trees for the second speaker. After a moment, the bird's black eyes found the spider's web and seemed to glare at the arachnid in residence.

The spider resumed its repairs, ending its part of the conversation with one more word:

"…Michaelis."

Another chuckle, this one livelier, "Of course, I can't fool you." The raven raised its wings and ascended to the branch beside the spider web. "How has life been as a pest?"

"Why don't you tell me?" The spider retorted, running another strand of silk between its forearms, "the mortals have been more obsessed with crop damage from avia like you than quiet cellar-dwellers as of late."

"I see seventy years as a spider has not dulled your edge," The raven congratulated, "Well done, Faustus."

"Why have you come to trouble me, Michaelis?" Faustus murmured, sliding further away from the bird whose beak seemed to turn up in a grin, "Do you not have souls to purchase? Mortals to trick? Cats to tickle?"

"Ah, I do no hold you in as much esteem as I should, fellow demon. Here I prided myself in believing that you were unaware of my feline fetish."

The spider sighed, "You have plenty of pets in our realm. Why do you need more?"

"One can never have enough pets," Michaelis scoffed, "They are like miniature souls themselves; capable of love but incapable of reason."

The raven paused and preened his feathers.

"Though if you're considering sampling, I'll have you know that they taste vile."

Again, the yellow-marked spider let out a low laugh, "Only you would know that, Michaelis."

"I don't know that you're cackling at me or with me, Faustus. Do clarify."

Faustus turned so that his spinnerets faced his companion and proceeded to mend his web, "I did not ask for your company. It is not my place to ask forgiveness if I offend your vast pride."

"I do not recall being offended." The raven answered haughtily.

"Very good, then."

Silence hung between the two demons as the spider worked. After a while, the raven queried:

"Have you seen anyone else around, perchance?"

Faustus shifted, "What do you mean?"

The raven adjusted its feathers and cleared its throat, "Well, seventy years is a long time. I assume you've spent them all sitting here in the trees, and even a broken clock is right twice a day, so perhaps you've seen someone wander by?"

It took the arachnid a couple of seconds to comprehend, but even when he did he remained quiet.

Finally he replied, "Maybe I have. Tell me, of what persuasion is the person you seek?"

Michaelis tsked, "It is no one of particular interest. I am merely bored, though I am convinced you have never suffered such affliction."


	4. 4

"Look, Hannah, it's snowing!"

Such a bright exclamation from a boy who had been sobbing seconds earlier. Hannah only watched as the child-earl raced to the window, pressing his hands to the cold glass in wonder.

"Come, come see," Alois beckoned, turning his head to the side in order to send his maid an innocent grin, "isn't it beautiful?"

Hannah cautiously approached the room's tall, gilded window. Alois' nose rested on it, breath painting its surface with round, puffy gusts. However, the scene on the other side of the frame was far less innocuous.

Snow swirled in great currents around the estate, the wind lashing about like some possessed whip. White mist enshrouded Trancy manor entirely and made Hannah feel somewhat uneasy.

But the blonde boy was impervious to such worries.

"I want to go outside and feel it for myself," Alois said, a giggle riding his voice. "We can make snow angels!"

A sharp pain stabbed at the maid's heart and her eyes moistened with tears. For a brief moment, Hannah had seen a ghost.

"Master, are you certain?" She asked gently, resisting the urge to stretch out with her hand and stroke the earl's arm, "The storm is vicious."

Alois' eyes narrowed dangerously and his lip curled.

"Are you talking back to me, Hannah?"

Hannah closed her eyes and bowed her head. Gone was the shadow of the little boy she loved.

"Of course not, Highness."

The maid quickly fetched the earl's coat and boots and proceeded to dress him. She reached for the scarf, but a pale hand grabbed her wrist.

"What are you doing?" Alois asked her, his voice thin and threatened.

"I am simply tying my master's wrap," Hannah answered, blinking with confusion.

"You're trying to strangle me," Alois murmured to himself, paling, "You're going to knot it around my neck and kill me!"

Bewilderment and grief tugged at Hannah as she witnessed her master's descent from fear to fury.

"Claude!"

And just like that control of the young Trancy's soul slipped away. In an instant, the butler Faustus was by his side, bending his knee in a bow.

"Yes, your highness."

It both tormented and infuriated Anafeloz that it was Claude's presence and not hers that relaxed the earl. As soon as the butler had spoken, Alois' face smoothed and his eyes grew round. Then the blonde boy remembered the business at hand, and his scowl returned.

"I want to go outside and enjoy the snow." The lord sounded like a pouting child, "Tie my scarf for me."

"Of course, your highness."

Your highness. Hannah hissed inwardly and a black cloud coiled around her heart. You have not earned the right to those words, she thought vehemently; you should not call him that.

Both Hannah and Claude escorted their employer to the manor's entrance. The door was pushed open, but before Alois departed he ordered:

"Claude, I want you to punish Hannah."

The demons exchanged brief glances of surprise. Claude responded:

"For what, Highness?"

Alois turned away from the white storm, glaring at his butler. "She tried to murder me in my own bedroom. Teach her not to try it again."

If the explanation vexed Claude any further, he did not show it. Faustus' expression went slack once more and he inclined his head.

"Certainly."

-TT-

Hannah waited until she heard the click of a closed door before removing her eyes from the window. The earl looked so happy, flat on his back waving his arms…within her, the soul of Luka Macken twisted and whimpered. The younger brother desired his sibling so badly…

"Getting impatient, are we, Hannah?"

She could hear the lecherous grin in his voice. Claude was just as much a demon on the outside as he was internally. Hannah would not satisfy him with an answer.

Claude only grew more smug, and his approaching footsteps were the only sound in the room.

"Some days I think you are going to devour that little brat before I can even work up an appetite."

The maid bit back a retort, insulted by the butler's crude language. Instead, she replied curtly:

"I yearn for the soul of Jim Macken. Your contract is with Alois Trancy. I see no transgression on my part."

"You weren't always this soft, Hannah," Claude was right behind her, tall and superior. "What's happened to you? Where is the ruthless demon's sheathe who would glut herself for centuries on end?"

Hannah clenched her fist and grit her teeth. Faustus always enjoyed this particular game. He truly was a spider plying the limbs of the insect caught in his web.

"Well, whether it belongs to Trancy or Macken…"

Large, cold hands secured themselves on her shoulders, and a cold voice licked her ear. Hannah shivered despite herself, and repeatedly insisted that she would not fear the greater demon, would not let the spider release its venom.

"…If there is a soul to be feasted upon, I will be the one who bites into it."

Hannah turned, snarling, "Bloody bastard! If you lay a finger on my brother, I'll-"

Claude chuckled, and his grip on her tightened painfully. "Dear Hannah, I do not believe in empty threats. I've said you as much before."


	5. 5

June, 1890

"Ciel!"

Many a time had the young Earl heard his name exclaimed with such joy, but only one voice could have pronounced it so happily.

A year had passed. Things had changed. At the age of fourteen, Ciel was no longer winded when his fiancée finally stopped twirling him about. In fact, the Lord Phantomhive noted that it was the Lady who seemed to be exhausted from the effort this time.

"I'm so glad you've returned!"

Ciel smiled. He could not recall when the gesture had become so easy to fake.

"As am I." He said, taking Elizabeth's hand in his. "Would you care to come inside, Lady Elizabeth?"

Elizabeth seemed disappointed for a moment, but readily replied that she would love to.

The manor had changed as well, Ciel noticed. As the couple followed the Phantomhive butler to the sitting room, they passed a row of statuettes that'd been rearranged, a new rug displayed in the hall, and an empty rectangle in the wallpaper where a painting had been taken down.

Upon reaching the lounge, Ciel's butler excused himself to fetch refreshments. The young couple made themselves at home, drawing near to the room's lavish couches.

"It's nice to see Sebastian is still with you," Elizabeth remarked, eyes wide and bright, "It's silly, but when you left last year I had this feeling that I would never see that man again."

Ciel couldn't help a quiet snicker, "You were nearly right." He moved to sit beside his fiancée, who earnestly made room for him on the settee.

For a little while, the two aristocrats sat in silence. Ciel caught Elizabeth eyeing him with interest, most likely due to the changes in his face.

The young Earl had lost much of the roundness in his cheeks, and his nose had become more pronounced. Ciel found to his own pleasure that his father's height was finally beginning to assert itself; he had grown five inches since his thirteenth birthday, already taller than Lizzie.

"Ciel," The Lady of Midford began quietly, "Where did you disappear to? Why didn't you answer my letters?" She interrupted herself, "I know you got them, but I only received short returns from Sebastian, claiming that you had postponed business."

The Lord Phantomhive had an answer for the question he'd anticipated, but something in the air prevented him from pronouncing it.

Elizabeth's words faded from his hearing, and the sitting room swam before his eyes. There was an overwhelming feeling in his veins; it tickled his fingers and caressed his spine.

"Young Master?"

Ciel blinked and his vision cleared. Elizabeth stared at him, biting her lip in concern. Ciel's butler, Sebastian, had placed a cup of tea in front of him and was watching the Lord with the same consternation.

"What is it?" Ciel snapped, glaring up at his servant.

Sebastian reciprocated his gaze, utterly serious. His eyes were conveying a message that Ciel did not want to receive, not while this wonderful sensation was playing with his body.

"Thank you," The fourteen-year-old said curtly, accepting the butler's offering of biscuits, "now leave us."

The butler gave his employer another suspicious look, but in the end he simply bowed and exited the room.

As soon as they were alone, Elizabeth's prattle continued on. Ciel nodded occasionally, hummed in agreement now and again, but his mind was scrambling desperately to keep him focused. A heavy scent surrounded him-

Vanilla.

Ciel's eyes widened and his jaw slipped. That was it. The bittersweet smell of vanilla was everywhere, wafting up his nose and watering his tongue.

No, he thought. It's not everywhere, it's…

Slowly, the Earl turned to his fiancée. The intoxicating aroma was coming from her.

Ciel took a deep breath, loving the perfume with every second. Vanilla suited her perfectly.

"C-Ciel?"

He paused and blinked again. Elizabeth seemed taken aback, and her cheeks were radiating heat. It was only then that Ciel realized he had been leaning towards her the entire time.

The Marquis' daughter opened her lips to continue, but Ciel placed a finger on them, silencing her.

"You smell lovely, Lizzie," He told her, smiling in adoration.

The Lady's face colored itself an even darker shade of red and she uttered a giggle.

"Oh my, Ciel, I don't know what to say!"

Ciel bent closer, brushing his cheek to hers.

"Don't say anything." He advised in a whisper.

Elizabeth's heart was racing in her chest, he could feel it. She smelled tantalizing, delicious, and he could already taste her blood, the blood pumping through her so quickly.

And suddenly he was ravenous. He needed that wonderful vanilla essence, he needed it urgently. When was the last time he had smelled something so alluring? Surely a small bite would be acceptable-?

"C-Ciel, w-what are you doing?"

His hands were on her shoulders, his nails like claws. Ciel's weight pinned her to the couch and Elizabeth was effectively trapped. Their lips were a hair's breadth away.

The Earl was beyond words now. There was only one voice he heeded, and it told him to eat. Sebastian had not served him breakfast that morning, had he? And it had been so very long since his last meal. Yes, Ciel agreed, tongue darting out to wet his lips, he deserved a treat. Something as fine and strong, something vanilla.

"Master."

Suddenly the food was gone, torn from his fingers. Ciel struggled, whipping around to challenge the insolent mortal who had interrupted his feast.

It was Sebastian's stern face that met him. The butler's gloved hands were securely wrapped around his Lord's arms. He had been the one to yank Ciel from Lizzie's throat.

"Sebastian, what is the meaning of this!" Ciel demanded, forcefully removing his servant's grip on him, "I was just about to-"

The Earl stopped himself abruptly as his senses returned.

Steam rose from the patch of couch where tea had spilt, carrying with it the scent of herbs. Gone was the elusive vanilla. The sitting room reappeared, slightly different than before.

Just about to what? Ciel asked himself in horror.

Sebastian's eyes narrowed, and he seemed to be wondering the same thing.

"Allow me to escort the Lady outside, my Lord."

"No!" The outburst completely surprised Ciel, who slapped his hands over his mouth. "I-I mean," he cleared his throat and shook his head, willing his demonic instincts away, "yes, of course."

Sebastian approached the couch, where Lizzie lay shivering. He collected the girl in his arms and made to leave. Ciel thought he heard his butler singing gently to her, though it may have been only an echo.

Ciel stood and shakily made his way across the room. As he walked, a flash caught his eye and he turned. His own reflection stared back at him through a cabinet mirror.

The mirror held him, and Ciel stayed by it for a long time. His legs were quivering beneath him as though he had been the one in danger.

"What…" He murmured to the glass, watched as the fourteen-year-old on the other side trembled with fear, "What have I done…?"

He looked into the remaining eye of the boy before him, and the eye glimmered crimson as if to answer.


	6. 6

Tick, tick, tick. That is the sound that rouses William T Spears from his brief slumber in the comfort of his desk's surface. The origin of his awakening is the dull, black-and-white clock hanging above the door of the Grim Reaper's office. Its hands reveal the time to be five-fifteen.

William slowly straightens in his seat and rubs his eyes. He does not recall dozing off, though he has an idea that he'd been resting his sore lids for a few moments. Either way, he still has forty-five minutes on his shift, and there is work do be done.

The supervisor of the Grim Reaper Dispatch Division blinks a few times to clear the sleep from his head and then reaches across his desk for his glasses.

His hand returns to his face empty.

This greatly puzzles William. After a quick check to make sure he has not missed, he allows his fingers to roam across the entire length of his workspace, tripping over papers and pens alike. Though he manages to secure an ink bottle, three writing tips and a stack of unfiled reports, William T Spears is unable to find his spectacles.

At this point, a small fluttering feeling is taking root in Will's lower chest. Only a few times in his life has the Grim Reaper experienced such an elevation in blood pressure. The feeling spreads to his head, giving form to all manner of annoying and useless thoughts, such as 'my spectacles are not where I left them'.

A knock at the door interrupts Will's launch into panic. He spends another minute groping around his desk again, hoping desperately that his glasses will return. He does not want anyone to see him this way.

But the knock sounds once more, and the supervisor of the Dispatch Division is still blind.

With great reluctance, Will sighs and bids the person enter.

"Boss," The voice of a perky young man joins Will in the office, "I've just come to drop off some more-"

Whoever has entered stops speaking abruptly and makes what Will believes to be a bewildered noise.

"What is it?" The Grim Reaper snaps impatiently, tapping his finger on his desk.

"Boss," the intruder begins again, very hesitantly, "where are your spectacles?"

Will snorts, "If I knew you would've left this office long ago."

the other man approaches, and Will is beginning to see an outline of his appearance. He is mostly a dark blob, but near what might be a head Will sees a yellowish-orange blotch.

"Well, where's the last place you saw them?"

The quip is followed by an immature cackle, and Will glares menacingly at the offender. Or at least, he hopes it's the offender and not a potted plant.

"You're Ronald Knox, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir," Ronald answers, a touch of guilt in his tone, "I'm sorry, sir, I couldn't help myself."

"Nevermind," Will replies, rising from his seat, "I cannot work under these conditions, and my shift does not end until six o'clock. That means we will need to find my spectacles swiftly if I am to avoid lengthy overtime."

"I'd love to help you search for them, sir," Ronald offers with a wide grin, "my shift's practically over anyway."

"Your shift does not end until six-forty-five." William's eyes narrow. If he didn't know the schedule of every one of his employees, what sort of supervisor would he be?

"Yeah, yeah. We gonna find those glasses or what?"

The elder Reaper sniffs indignantly and fights the urge to adjust spectacles he knows aren't there, "I am fully capable of recovering them on my own. You have work to attend to."

"Not much work," Ronald counters, "and with all due respect, sir, I can't have you wanderin' the facility blind as a bat. If you fall and hurt yourself, I'll be blamed!"

"I will not fall, nor am I 'blind as bat', as you put it."

"Boss," The blonde Reaper says flatly, "You've been talking to a plant for the past three minutes."

Will blanches and he feels the tips of his ears growing hot. With slight trepidation, he stealthily darts a finger forward to find that the block blotch he had been conversing with is smooth and glossy to the touch.

He turned his head and gasped to find Ronald's only centimeters from his own.

"Can you see me now, Boss? How many fingers am I holding up?"

"Get away from me." Will grunts, swatting the younger Grim Reaper away. Ronald chuckles again and backs up a few steps, smiling.

The two soul collectors stand in silence for a few moments before Will finally gives in with a sigh and admits:

"Perhaps I could use a hand to escort me to the instruction wing. It is possible that I forgot my spectacles in one of the classrooms earlier."

"I'd be happy to, Boss."

Their journey to the instruction wing is mostly uneventful, at least so far as the Supervisor believes. The pristine walls of the London branch's complex act against Will to utterly confuse him. Floors and ceilings mesh together to form enormous blobs of gray and white, like drops of paint on a canvas. If not for Ronald's occasional whispers of, 'I'm here, sir,' and 'this way, sir', Will is ashamed to admit he would've been lost almost instantly.

As they near the educational division, Will hopes that not too many of his subordinates have passed him. Supervisor of the entire Dispatch Division, and he isn't even wearing his spectacles. What a disgrace. The Reaper's ears go hot again just imagining it.

"Here we are. This is the room you were using this afternoon, right, Boss?"

William pauses, attempting to find what Ronald is looking at. Eventually, he leans his nose against the wall to read the placard next to the door they've stopped by. 'Reaping Basics, 101' it says.

"Yes, this is it." Will confirms, fingers reaching up to rub the bridge of his nose. Adjusting his glasses is a habit he cannot break easily, it seems.

The large black blob that represents Ronald shifts a bit, then the young Reaper lets out a disgruntled sigh.

"We may have to return later, Boss."

"Why?"

Ronald's voice indicates his expression has changed to something much duller than its previous.

"Someone is already-"

Suddenly, the door flies open, slamming against the classroom wall with a crash that makes the Dispatch Divison's head jump.

"Will! What a darling, coming to visit me while I'm at work!"

Both Ronald and Will could not help the shudders that came from conversing with the likes of Grell Sutcliff against one's volition.

But before Mr. Spears could reclaim his dignity, the large red stain that is Grell inhales enough air to pop a balloon:

"But sweetheart, where are your glasses?" He questions, tone high and scandalous.

"That is precisely what I am here to find out," Will replies, brow twitching in annoyance, "Might we enter?"

Grell ushers them in as quickly as possible, all the while giggling about the very fact that Will is present.

Will hears Ronald swallow loudly and then grow completely silent, but pays no attention. There are bigger problems at hand...quite literally, as Grell has, at this point, taken to rubbing Will's hand with his cheek.

"So, how can I be of service, my beautiful man?"

Will swears he can almost detect the sound of stifled laughter, but once again pushes this fact to the back of his mind. He snatches his hand from Grell's grasp and wipes it on the back of his jacket.

"I am not your man," He snaps coldly, fighting the urge to adjust his spectacles yet again, "and I am wondering if my glasses may have been lost here at the conclusion of the three o'clock lessons. Have you seen them?"

Grell lets out a cackle, but then shakes his head mournfully.

"No, I'm afraid I haven't seen them," He says, "but if you don't mind me pointing out, Will, you are so much more masculine _without _them!"

What had previously been a collection of snorts and chortles became a head-on howl of mirth. The entire classroom is now throbbing with the laughter of the twenty-some students that Will had failed to notice as he entered. Grell proceeds on with his praise of his boss' physique, completely oblivious to the amusement he is providing his class.

As for the spectacle-less Reaper himself, Will is convinced he has become ill. His stomach is churning, his fingers are tingling, and his face feels as though it is completely empty and all the blood in his body has rushed to his feet.

Will swallows as the laughter continues, loud, blatant and mocking. This has been his greatest nightmare since attending his first class as a junior Reaper. He always knew that one day, his greatest embarrassment would come to pass in this room...he just didn't figure that it would take a century to arrive.

"Let's leave, sir," Ronald coughs out awkwardly, "I don't think your glasses are in here."

The mortified Supervisor nods dumbly and flees, abandoning Grell to tremble in his daydreams alone.

William's senses do not return to him until Ronald is leading him down the hall one again.

"how humiliating," the Grim Reaper mutters to himself. The blood has finally returned to his head, but this time in full force. His face feels hot enough to fry an egg. "how terribly humiliating."

"Where are we headed now, Boss?" Ronald asks, still a bit disturbed since the incident.

Will shakes his head, "Take me to see Pops. I refuse to bumble around the facility any longer."

Ronald sounds almost incredulous, "Sir? You can't be givin' up on your spectacles already! Do you really want a new pair made?"

It is extremely unusual for an officer to ask Lawrence Anderson for a second pair of glasses, especially the immaculate William T Spears. The spectacles themselves are like the badge of a true Grim Reaper. They should not need replacing.

"Of course not," Will answers defensively, "I only mean to ask for a recruit pair in my prescription. It will not do for me to ignore any number of people because of faulty vision."

Ronald hums in agreement, but William suspects his expression is far from trusting.

Soon they arrive at the Spectacles Division, and the Dispatch Director's mind is put at ease by the whirring and tapping of glasses being constructed. Will has always found this particular wing a nice place to relax, but has never said as such to his coworkers.

Like any other Reaper, Will has a great deal of respect for Pops. The old man is sitting at his wheel as usual when the two walk into his work area. Lawrence does not look up from the pair of lenses he is crafting.

"Excuse me, Mr. Anderson," Will begins with a courteous bow of his head, "I am searching for recruit spectacles in my-"

"Positive four-point-two-five." Says Pops, sparing one of his fingers to point east in direction.

The two Reapers stare at their elder for a moment, who refuses to be distracted from his job. After a few seconds, Mr. Anderson's finger returns to correcting the lens.

"Er, right. Suppose he means this way, Boss."

Ronald leads Will down the path indicated by Pops. They eventually reach a wall on which hang identical sets of recruit spectacles, along with cards that list their lens strength.

"Here," Ronald says with a smile, "Four-point-two-five positive. Jesus, Boss, you're practically blind!"

"Keep your comments to yourself, Reaper Knox." Will reprimands flatly.

Ronald smothers a laugh and then proceeds to Will's card on the wall. However, his relieved demeanor is soon replaced by confusion.

"hey," he remarks, "Boss, they're no lenses here in your prescription."

"What do you mean?"

"There's none here," Ronald shrugs, "I see the card, but the rack is empty."

William raises his eyebrows. Not even recruit glasses in his size? This cannot be a coincidence, especially considering William has never misplaced his spectacles before in his life. No, the Reaper thinks to himself, fingers curling around his chin, this is deliberate.

Someone has stolen his glasses.

"What now, sir?"

Who could it be? Demons, perhaps, looking for revenge after losing a tasty snack to a Reaper's Scythe? Fairies, meddling about in matters they don't understand simply for entertainment? Even a human might've accomplished so simple a-

"Boss, what do you want to do now?"

The Director of the Dispatch Division shakes himself from his pondering and speaks:

"Take me back to my office, Knox. I need to consider this matter in depth."

Ronald nods, and they spend the journey in silence. Soon William's suspicions return to Demons. After all, they are the most capable of his foes (although he has not ruled out Angels, either. They enjoy meddling in Reaper affairs almost as much as those hated Devils, thinking themselves mighty enough to 'correct' the To-Die list). With the head of the Dispatch Division incapacitated, Reapers would be much slower to attend deaths... freeing that many souls to whomever wished to take them.

Within a matter of minutes, Will is back in his office (the only room he has completely mapped in his memory). He has only just closed the door when suddenly he is thrown to the ground.

Acting on instinct alone, Will rolls to the right just as the offender stabs the place where his body had been occupying seconds previous. After that, the battle is all but madness to William: his attacker is a large, black, blob that ruthlessly tries to stick the Reaper's middle with an unidentifiable object.

Finally Will can dodge the blows no longer. A hand he can't see wraps around his throat and pins him hard against the wall. Pain ripples down Will's back, and for a moment his mind goes blank.

"Now..."

William chokes, coughing to clear his airways as he struggles against his assailant.

"I have you right where I want you, William T Spears..."

Who? That's all Will wants to know, who is it? If only he could see!

"Where are my spectacles, you fiend!" He shouts between gasps, "What have you done with them!"

There is a slight pause, and Will detects a wave in the strength of the hand pinning him.

"...fiend? Is that what you really think of me?"

The Grim Reaper freezes and his eyes go wide. That voice is awfully familiar, it can't be...

The figure's other hand moves to slide down the hood concealing its face.

"Although that _is _the term I use to refer to Bassy occasionally, so I suppose it's sexy in itself. Still, it's the way you said it."

"Grell?"

Will's vision is splotched with a great big spot of red, but Grell's face is so close to his that he can see the fine points of his teeth.

"Surprised, my love?"

A second passes where the Director is so overwhelmed that he cannot speak. Then, he responds in the iciest, deadest voice he can muster:

"Put me down, Reaper Sutcliff."

"Already?" Grell purses his lips in a pout, "but look how much fun we're-"

"Put me _down!" _

The red Reaper complies sorrowfully.

"Now, what was the meaning of that?" Will demands, brushing himself off and blushing for one of the numerous times that day.

"Oh I'm certain you already know, darling," Grell purrs, stepping back a bit to give William his space, "The answer's right in front of you, and it has been for a long time..."

William stops to adjust his glasses-

Wait.

His glasses! Could it possibly be that...

"Grell," Will whispers, bewildered, "Did you...do you have my spectacles?"

Grell only chuckles and slowly pulls the large-lensed gray objects from his pocket.

"I told you, the answer was before you all this-"

The Reaper is interrupted by a fist to the face as Will reclaims his property. At last, the slotted spectacles are back where they belong, and the world is reopened to Reaper Spears.

"Finally," Will murmurs to himself happily, "finally, finally, finally!"

"Er," Grell frowns, "I was really more hoping you were into animate objects, but I suppose we could have a threesome..."

"Why, Grell?" Asks the near-blind Reaper when he can, "Why did you take them?"

Grell seems to be growing more uncomfortable by the moment now that all power in the situation has been drained from him, "Well, you're just always so professional and intimidating, and whenever the glasses leave your face you're just...so much more vulnerable..."

"Your goal was to make me vulnerable."

"No, no, not at all! It's just that...well, the old Will was so boring, I wanted to love you in a new, fresh way! Imagine!" Grell's voice assumed a high pitched, dream-like quality, "William T Spears, the helpless rabbit in the field, surrounded by enemies and predators! Whoever shall protect him, shall stroke his soft, wondrous hair and kiss his beautiful-!"

Once again, Grell is stopped. But this time it is a Death Scythe down his throat that has suspended his ability to speak.

"Reaper Sutcliff," William begins professionally, adjusting his specs with his forefinger, "Your actions have violated several rules and brought great shame to the office of Directive Reaper. For this, I am temporarily removing your status as field Reaper."

Grell tries to argue immediately, but the branch trimmer in his esophagus only twists.

"For the next two weeks, you are to work in the Management and General Affairs departments only."

As soon as he is free to talk, Grell laments: "No, not the paperwork! You know how absolutely dreadful I am at that!"

"Any more complaints and your Death Scythe shall be confiscated."

Grell tearfully closes his mouth.

William slides his spectacles up the bridge of his nose once more, secretly euphoric that they have been returned. However, when he leaves the room, he mutters these words in quite the angry fashion:

"I cannot even conceive of all the unnecessary overtime that will come from this..."


	7. Special! Kuro Quiz 1

Which Butler suits you best

1. Morning! Your butler has come to wake you, but you're still sleepy. Reaction?

a) Roll over and stick my head under my pillow. It's too early for sunlight! **(3)**

b) I don't want to wake up, but the day must go on... something warm to drink would help keep me awake though. **(5)**

c)Send the butler away and grab a few more hours of beauty sleep! **(7)**

**-0-**

2. Now you've finally made your way downstairs and your butler is serving you breakfast. Which would be your first preference?

a) A nice, soft scone. **(5)**

b) something fried, like pancakes or doughnuts perhaps. **(5)**

c) I don't usually eat breakfast, but if I had to I'd pick something fruity. **(8)**

**-0-**

3. Time for a dancing lesson! You do know the waltz, don't you?

a) Of course! It's my favorite dance! **(6) **

b) Yeah, but dancing is stupid. I'd rather go outside or read a good book than spend my morning stepping about in circles. **(3)**

c) Er... **(4)**

**-0-**

4. It's almost time for lunch, but a matter has come up amongst the servants. Your butler dashes off to assist them. While waiting for his return, you-

a) Leave the room he told me to stay in and go for a walk. The flower garden seems a lovely place to spend the time. **(5)**

b) Try to find something in the room to entertain me. A board game or pack of cards would be nice. **(4)**

c) Well, I'll follow my butler of course! Nothing happens in my house without me watching. (**7)**

**-0-**

5. Lunch! Your butler has prepared a very, very nice meal, but one of the dishes was not to your liking. How do you help your butler correct this mistake?

a) Very gently inform him that his cooking leaves something to be desired, and suggest a few chefs he could learn from. **(9)**

b) Tell him directly what I didn't like. **(6)**

c) Demand a reason why he specifically prepared something that he knows I hate! **(5)**

**-0-**

6. Your butler has sworn never to repeat the mistake. Now, you've got two hours of boring lessons to get through...how do you express your need to be entertained?

a) Have the tutor dismissed and do something fun. Let's keep that a secret from my butler, though... **(2) **

b) Engage the tutor in charming conversation. I really don't know anything about them, after all... **(5)**

c) Sufffeeeeerrrrr... **(3)**

**-0-**

7. An unexpected guest has arrived at your manor! Order your butler to-

a) become as invisible as possible. I deal with all guests personally. **(6)**

b) Make the guest comfortable while I think of something to say to them. **(4) **

c) Serve the guest something delicious. Then the guest will in a good mood and will notice what a fine servant I have. **(5)**

**-0-**

8. Well, the guest is gone. That wasn't so bad. Now it's time for afternoon tea! Which drink would you like to accompany your snack?

a) Earl gray. **(5)**

b) Coffee. **(6)**

c) Something very sweet and creamy. **(4)**

**-0-**

9. It's a little late in the day, but you decide to take a short trip to London. Your butler escorts you, even though you assure him he isn't needed. Since he insists on coming, what's the best way to use the extra person?

a) Bodyguard! No one would dare mess with my tall, well-dressed butler. **(3) **

b) Pack mule. Surely I can't be expected to carry all the items by myself. **(4) **

c) I love shopping with a partner! He can help me decide which clothes look best on me. **(5)**

**-0-**

10. Finally, back home at the manor. Your butler unloads the things you bought and puts them away. When should dinner be held?

a) Six o'clock sharp. I always have dinner at the same time every day. **(5)**

b) Oh, I don't really care. Whenever the butler gets it ready is fine with me. **(7)**

c) Right away, I'm starving. **(4)**

**-0-**

11. That dinner was very yummy. While your butler cleans up and checks on the servants, what will you be doing?

a) Reading the romance novels I bought in town. I started reading it in the shop and I'm already hooked. **(6)**

b) Thinking. Sometimes I like to have the time to myself to consider things... **(4)**

c) Working in my office, as usual. **(5)**

**-0-**

12. last question! Your butler has come to take you to bed. You prefer that he-

a) Stay with me for a little bit. I like talking to him, he's interesting. **(4) **

b) Tuck me in, then leave unless I tell him otherwise. I don't like him standing around my bed like a vulture... **(5)**

c) Let me put myself to sleep. I'm an adult, I can take care of myself...although I admit that the manor is very lonely sometimes. **(7) **

RESULTS

**49-60= Claude Faustus. **

You're not really that used to having a butler, so you make it up as you go. However, you'd do well with a butler who gives you your space and is very patient with your temper. Claude will serve you faithfully...as long as he gets paid.

**61-69= Sebastian Michaelis.**

Being served is second nature to you, and your butler knows that. You're a little indifferent sometimes, but hard working and calm. Sebastian enjoys being your butler and always tries his hardest, and the best thing you can do for him is continue to be the stern and uncaring master you are.

**70-85= Grell Sutcliff**

Okay, so your butler is a teensy bit of a failure, but you know he tries hard. Grell only wants to fulfill his role to the best of his abilities, however sad they may be. You're pretty patient with him, and he appreciates it. He loves going shopping with you, and sometimes he's a little closer than you'd prefer. Still a fine, deathly-efficient butler.


	8. Special! Kuro Quiz 2

Which Master would you serve best?

1. Your morning alarm has gone off, and it's time to rouse the Master. How do you proceed?

a) Pull his shades and let the sunlight wake him. Make sure to have some tea ready, as the smell of it will keep him from falling back asleep. **(2) **

b) Stand by his bedside and gently call his name. **(6)**

c) It is not my place to wake my Master. He will call when he is ready to see me. **(4)**

**-0-**

2. The Master is awake, dressed, and ready for today's schedule. What will you serve him while you present it?

a) A breakfast of fried eggs and juice. **(7)**

b) Nothing. If my Master has not asked for an appetizer, he probably isn't hungry. **(5)**

c) Fish lightly fried in batter accompanied by a scone. **(3)**

-0-

3. Which of the following would you enjoy teaching your Master?

a) I would like to instruct my Master in the cultures of other countries and their languages. **(4) **

b) The Viennese Waltz. **(2)**

c) Reading, writing, and sketching. **(7)**

**-0-**

4. Lunch has almost arrived, which means it's time to check on the servants. How do you make certain they aren't slacking off?

a) My presence is generally enough to ward off failure, but if they require further encouragement, I will smile and offer my assistance. **(4)**

b) Try switching up their jobs. Repetition bores and leads to error, so why not try having each servant attempt something new. As long as I am supervising, nothing disastrous will occur. **(4)**

c) Fix any mistakes they've made so far, and threaten them severely if more arise. **(7)**

**-0-**

5. Something about his noon meal has displeased your Master! How do you react?

a) Stoically. However, I apologize for form's sake. I don't care overmuch for my Master, I am here to do a job and get paid. **(7)**

b) I exhibit brief shock, but immediately apologize and repair the situation. **(3)**

c) Beg forgiveness and swear never to present this meal again. **(5)**

**-0-**

6. Finally, lunch is over with. The tutor has come, and you find yourself with two hours of free time while your Master learns. How will you spend it?

a) Cooking, and maybe later I would meditate. **(4)**

b) Reading, writing, or crocheting. **(6)**

c) As quality time with my favorite kittens. **(3)**

**-0-**

7. An unexpected guest has arrived at the manor-! Plan of action?

a) Usher the guest inside and order one of the servants to notify the Master. Meanwhile, prepare something for the guest to drink and engage them in small talk. **(2)**

b) Ask the Master's permission before allowing the guest inside. Only when the word is given will he or she be shown hospitality. **(4)**

c) Turn the guest away. They have no right to enter the manor uninvited. **(5)**

**-0-**

8. The guest is gone now, and it's almost time for afternoon tea. What sort of treat will you serve your Master along with his drink?

a) Something salty. **(7)**

b) Something crunchy. **(3)**

c) Something spicy. **(5)**

**-0-**

9. Your Master has announced that he wants to take a trip into London. You insist on accompanying him because-

a) London is a dangerous place for a noble to walk about unguarded. **(2)**

b) He is prone to rash action. **(6)**

c) He is easily confused/lost. **(4)**

**-0-**

10. When should dinner be held?

a) Whenever the Master is hungry. **(4)**

b) At six o'clock sharp. **(3)**

c) When it is ready. **(6)**

**-0-**

11. The Master has eaten and is locked away in his study. It's time to clean up and check on the servants again. However, despite your earlier supervision, the servants have managed to make a mess of things, and the kitchen is in ashes. How do you proceed?

a) Heave a large sigh and tell the servants to take the night off. They've done enough damage…and I work better alone. **(2)**

b) Punish them brutally and make sure they know there are plenty other potential house staff to be hired in England. **(7)**

c) I'll forgive them if they try their hardest to undo this problem and resolve to be more careful in the future. **(4)**

**-0-**

12. That was a long day, wasn't it? But the Master is safely tucked away in bed, and you've rest of the night to yourself. How to wind down after hours of exhausting work…?

a) I enjoy time spent in the library. There's lots to be learned from the experiences of others. **(8)**

b) Stretching and a brief wash before going to bed. **(5)**

c) Begin preparations for the next day. I have trouble sitting still… **(3)**

RESULTS:

32-43 = Ciel Phantomhive

Your Master is bitter, yet always craves something sweet. He displays indifference, but you feel he is most sensitive when you are present. The Young Master is very delicate; you know how to handle him with ease. You would make one hell of a Phantomhive butler.

44-55 = Soma Osman Kadar

This Prince is a bit of a challenge. He is prone to acts of complete immaturity, despite your constant guidance towards the path of adulthood. He demands a lot of attention, but you find yourself willing to give it. Even with all his faults, you know that your Master is capable, loving, and honest. It is a pleasure and honor to serve him.

56-67 = Alois Trancy

The Earl Trancy is a difficult Master. He is brash, inexperienced, and unburdened by the tethers of reality. He often makes impossible demands, or punishes where it is not deserved, but with you at his side he has grown calm. You know how to balance a chaotic situation, and how to reign in an unruly Master. Indeed, you are a Trancy butler.


	9. 7

March, 1889

England

"…And this mark shall bless you as the flesh of the holy feast."

Hands (or were they bones?) painfully pinned the boy's arms and legs to the altar, prohibiting any movement. He lay shivering, naked, exposed as dozens of faceless worshippers grinned down at him.

A hissing sound broke through the layers of chanting and captured the ten-year-old's attention. Still trembling, he barely managed to turn his head to the side in time to see the sizzling poker as it drew near, ready to brand him with a symbol that glowed white-hot.

"The holy feast…"

Those three words echoed in his head as the poker made contact with the skin of his left flank. The boy's body convulsed with the most torturous of agonies-

And then Ciel awoke, bolting forward in his bed and gasping for breath.

The Earl was unsure of how much time passed before his chest returned to rising normally. With morbid curiosity, the thirteen-year-old noble peeled up the side of his nightshirt (now damp with sweat) to peek at the part of his torso that had been stricken in the dream.

The brand was still there. Only now it had faded to a dark red and molded against his skin.

Ciel Phantomhive sighed and allowed the fabric to fall back down. It was no mere nightmare; it was a memory. That day, the fire, his abduction, the ceremony…all of it would haunt him forever.

But why did it happen? What did it mean? The mark, what does it represent?

Ciel swallowed and closed his eyes hard against the final question he knew could never be answered: _why me. _

"Good afternoon there, lad!"

The young Earl leapt in his bed and nearly screamed from fright. To his immediate left Ciel found two bright, golden eyes staring into his.

"Wha-what is this?" The boy demanded shakily, backing up so that his palms rested on his pillows, "Who are you?"

The man, whom Ciel could not see in the darkness of his bedroom, sounded hurt as he replied:

"You don't even know who I am? But you invited me!"

"Invited you?" Lord Phantomhive repeated incredulously, his asthma forcing a cough as it itched, "I can't even see you!"

Instantly, the room's candles lit themselves and Ciel's guest was revealed. He appeared to be an elderly man in a stylish lavender coat. His hair (a fine silver) was neatly combed back and set in his sharply featured face were two yellow eyes with a slightly inhuman glow to them.

"There we are, certain that's better," He said in his cheerful northern accent, "I sometimes forget how limited mortal eyesight is. 'Specially when they don't have eyes."

The old man chuckled at his own joke, which Ciel couldn't begin to fathom.

"So, who are you? And what do you want?"

The guest grinned and took a seat on the bed.

"I am here because you, lad, summoned me. It seems you were having a wee bit of a bout with insanity just now."

Ciel nodded in understanding, "I see. This must be the following dream then." The thirteen-year-old paused to massage his forehead lightly, "I should stop drinking tea before retiring, I suppose."

"This is no dream, kiddo, this is the real thing." The stranger said softly. Then he interrupted himself with a frown, "Unless we're all dreaming right now. No, this isn't one of my dreams. For one, there would be far more intestines to tear apart if it were." Suddenly, he brightened, "And there'd be loads more sweetrolls, too!"

"You mentioned mortals earlier," Ciel cut in, trying hard not to be disturbed by his visitor's apparent lunacy, "What did you mean by that? Are you a demon?"

"A demon?" He iterated, brows raised. "No, but I know a lot of demons. You know, my servants and all. Oh, how I love them," He chuckled, "Those immortal demons and their insatiable need to sacrifice themselves to me."

"If you aren't a demon, then what are you?" Ciel persisted, frustration evident in his tone. Speaking of demons, where was Sebastian? It deeply perturbed the Earl that his Butler had not come to his aid by now.

"I am the Prince of Madness, Sheogorath."

The little Lord's eyes widened and he held back a gasp. It was clear to Ciel that the old man wasn't human, but the patron of insanity? Just what exactly was happening?

"But I see you've managed to snag a demon's service as well. That's impressive, for a mortal." Sheogorath shrugged, "Still, I don't want him bothering us just yet."

"What?" Ciel blinked, "You know about my contract?"

"O'course I do! I know everything!" The Madgod cackled, then lowered his voice to a whisper, "And at the same time, I know nothing."

"Your little 'Sebastian Michaelis' has been trying to get into this room for hours. He keeps whining at me to let you go." He laughed again, "It's quite cute, really."

"So Sebastian is protecting me…" Ciel murmured to himself.

"He's trying to, at any rate," Sheogorath agreed, "A fine servant. Reminds me of my own chamberlain, Haskill."

"What do I have to do to get you to leave?" The Earl asked solemnly.

"It's simple, lad." The Prince pointed to himself, "I am here because you doubt yourself." His hand returned to rest on the quilt.

"You're here, but you think you're somewhere else. Or maybe you are somewhere else. Or maybe…" The Madgod's voice lowered itself to a demonic whisper again, "_someone _else."

"Stop speaking in riddles."

"Don't tell me what to do. I don't like your tongue, boy."

Sheogorath smiled, a gesture that sent shivers down Ciel's spine, "But the rest of you is rather exquisite, especially that soul of yours. How I'd love to have it in my collection…"

Without warning, the Prince of Madness burst into a laughter so great he slapped his hand against the quilt multiple times.

"There he is again! Oh, Ciel I _love _your butler! He's making me want to take him home too, yes he is!"

Ciel swallowed. The old man's mention of his soul is probably what relit Sebastian's determination. If Sheogorath was a being more powerful than a demon, he was capable of voiding Ciel's contract and taking the boy's soul for his own.

"You want me to figure out who I am?" The Earl wondered, hoping he could draw the Prince's attention away from his struggling servant.

"Yes, that's right." Sheogorath nodded, still grinning hungrily, "And if you can't, you get to come back with me to my palace! We'll have a wonderful time, you know. Until I get bored with you and decide you look better without legs."

Ciel forced himself to think, despite the stranger's chilling giggles. In his nightmare he'd been forced to relive his abduction. It was a memory he revisited often, though never voluntarily. The priests of the cult had tried to kill him, and that was when Ciel signed his contract with Sebastian. The contract saved his life, but sacrificed his soul.

His soul…the Madgod was right. The ten-year-old boy Ciel had been that day was dead. Sacrificed. Now he was someone else.

"Your butler has such a beautiful voice, lad," Sheogorath chuckled, "It feels like silk on my ears! How I'd love to hear it in bed. Or ripped from his throat as he shrieks in agony."

"I have an answer to your question." Lord Phantomhive said loudly.

"Do you, now?" Sheogorath asked, "That's nice. I don't much remember what the question was, but I do love hearing answers. They always make less sense than the query!"

"I am Ciel Phatomhive." The boy began with a deep breath, "When I was young, my parents were taken from me in a fire that devoured my estate, my title, and my innocence."

"Ooh, if only Haskill were here, he loves this stuff…"

"I was taken by a group of people who, to this day, remain unknown to me. They branded my side with this mark-" Ciel pulled at the corner of his nightshirt, displaying the symbol, "before preparing to kill me."

"However, I summoned the demon, Sebastian Michaelis, before they were able to complete the ceremony. Under my orders, he slaughtered them all. Now my sole purpose in life is to find the ones responsible for the fire and end them. After that, my soul will be devoured by Sebastian Michaelis, who until then will serve as my butler."

"Is there anything you'd like to add?" Sheogorath prodded, his voice low and intimidating.

Ciel shook his head, "No. I have spoken only the truth."

The Prince of Madness sighed in defeat, "How terribly disappointing. It seems you've got everything sorted, lad. I won't be taking you home with me after all."

The Earl watched in silence as his visitor removed himself from the bed and straightened out his purple coat.

"It's been a real pleasure speaking with you, kiddo, a real pleasure." Sheogorath said mournfully, "But I've got a realm full of nutty people to deal with now. Ever wondered why they call them 'nutty' and not 'leafy' or 'berry'? I've thought about that a lot."

Noble etiquette required that Ciel relinquish some sort of farewell, but the Earl couldn't bring himself to say anything.

"Well, so long. Maybe I'll return for you some day."

As the old man disappeared in a burst of light, Ciel shuddered and uttered a prayer that such a day would never come.

The crack of a door being thrown open made the boy jump once again.

Sebastian dropped to his lord's bedside in an instant. What scared Ciel was that the demon looked positively exhausted.

"Deepest apologies, sir," The butler gasped, "I have made a most grievous error and brought shame to my position-!"

"Shut up." Ciel mumbled and squirmed back into his bed.

Sebastian climbed to his feet and leaned over the Earl worriedly, "Are you injured, Lord? Did he take anything from you?"

"No, we just had a little chat." Ciel answered gruffly and pulled the quilt around himself. "Now go away and let me sleep."

"Yes, my young lord."


	10. 8 bonfire of the OCs

March, 1886

London, England

Cold. Wet. Hungry. Tired. Cold.

It isn't fair. At least, that's what you tell yourself. And it's what the others tell you as the group huddles together beneath the worn tarp, waiting out the rain.

"Rain, rain, go away," Sings the little one, you don't remember her name. "Come again another day."

But the rain is not dismissed so easily. You sigh and rub your hands together, but the palms are clammy and you feel bits of skin peeling off at the friction. Eventually you give up and take to crawling closer to the unfortunate beside you.

"Damn," mutters another orphan you don't recognize. He looks around your age, give or take a year, and is rummaging through the sackcloth bag you know is empty, "Not even a crumb. 'Hose turn is it this time?"

None of the others volunteer.

"Right then, you can go on."

At first you frown in confusion, but glancing down the realization dawns that your hand raised itself. Interesting, you wonder as you climb to your tattered feet, how you cannot recall lifting your wrist.

You wander out of the alley and filter into the cobblestone streets. As usual, you are completely ignored. The upper class of England's citizens has no reason to stop for a poor urchin, and whatever food vendors you come across offer nothing but sneers and a brush of the hand. A few people you pass actually declare you filthy and chase you from their sights.

It is a terrible life. And it isn't fair.

But they're counting on you, those other worthless children in the alley whose names you either cannot recall or never bothered to learn. Somehow, the lot of you are a family.

There is one thing working in your favor today, though. The rain has slickened belts and ties, and so it is easy for you to snake your thin fingers around the fat coin purses that promise dinner.

One after another, they fall to your expert thievery. As you are homeless, underage, and female, you might as well be invisible to the public. No one feels it when you bump into their waists and snag a few coins from their pockets, or cut a pouch from their belts.

An hour later, the rain has stopped. You have collected a sizeable amount of coin and are headed back home to the gutter, eager to divide the portions. Your siblings will be so happy with you, and maybe they'll give you a name.

And then you see him.

A young boy, two or three years your junior. He reminds you of one of your little brothers, the dark-haired one who died of coughing sickness a while back. Except this child is not coughing.

Your curiosity inquires as to the patch covering his eye, and you find yourself staring as he approaches. A shadow lurks behind him, tall, black, and endless. Shivers inch up your spine and you feel the urge to run.

Only…

Whenever the boy takes a step, you hear a jingling sound. As though he is carrying a coin purse on him, which…yes, you can see it. The child is so skinny the pouch is almost bulging, begging to be plucked.

Quick as lightning, you dart forward and snatch the moneybag right from the boy's belt. You perceive a gasp, but are already gone by then, bolting down the road.

You do not stop running until you are certain no one is pursuing. Wheezing and panting for breath, you duck into the crevice between two smoke-spewing buildings and weigh the object in your hands. It produces that same, magical noise, the sound of gold clicking together. You smile greedily and pull open the pouch, enjoying the feeling of the metal between your fingers. So shiny and smooth…perhaps your siblings do not deserve it. After all, they would only bicker and dirty the coins.

Suddenly, a man is laughing. It is a low laugh, a chuckle, as though the person is remembering a personal joke.

You turn, fearfully clutching the bag to your chest.

"A thief, are you? How interesting."

Someone is entering the alley, someone you do not know and did not bid entry to. With immense trepidation, you recognize the shadow from earlier, that tall, black thing following the boy you stole from. Now that he is closer, you realize that it is not a monster, but a well-dressed gentleman in a coat. You wonder how warm that coat must feel- it's so large it could easily fit two of you.

"Retrieve the evidence and let's be on our way," A child's voice, but its speaker is nowhere to be found. "I tire of these filthy sidestreets."

"Yes, my lord."

The gentleman returns his attention to you, and you retreat further down the alley. However, you cannot bring yourself to turn your back, instead reversing one foot at a time.

"Excuse me, young lady," He addresses you primly, causing another set of chills to creep along your body. Is it the light of the passage, or are his eyes glowing?

"You have in your possession something that belongs to my master."

You shake your head and squeeze the pouch even tighter. You didn't steal it, you found it. It's yours now, and the family's as well. Right?

"Hm?" The gentleman smiles, but it's not a smile you've ever seen before, "Speak up, please, miss."

"Sebastian, what's keeping you?"

Another set of footsteps, and the shadow turns long enough for you to glimpse the boy with the eyepatch drawing near.

The sight of him causes you to turn tail and sprint. You attempt to put as much distance between you and them as possible.

However, you suddenly find yourself lifted off the ground, and then there is an incredible pain in your throat. A spike of agony lances through your back as it hits something jagged, and then numbness. The sweaty pads of your palms inform you that you are pressed snugly against a wall.

"Here we are," You cry out as the precious coins are picked from your hand, like berries from a bush. "That wasn't so hard, now was it."

"Are they all there?"

Your captor nods, "Yes, sir."

"Good. Let us depart."

"Young master, would it bother you terribly if I stopped for a bite to eat?" The tight feeling in your throat worsens, and you glance down to find it originates from a white glove closed around your neck.

When the boy responds, he sounds surprised, "Now? Why?"

"I have been feeling a mite peckish. You may wait at the mouth of the alley, if you wish. I shan't be more than a minute or two."

The wealthy child consents, and you watch him walk away, into the light of the evening.

But for you, everything is beginning to grow darker.

"Do not be afraid, little one."

You failed to notice you have been trembling. The gentleman in the warm coat is staring at you with his strange, strange eyes, and he is smiling widely. He eases his grip on your windpipe and you sink to the ground gasping.

The stranger sinks with you, keeping his face inches from your own as your lungs heave.

"It will hurt, but only a for a moment."

You look up, and when your gaze locks with his you feel something snap.

Thoughts become memories, memories become thoughts. Voices in your head. You can't move at all, but you don't have to- someone else is pulling your strings, white hands caressing you.

And then there is pain and blood. Consciousness returns long enough for you to realize that the monster has its fingers in your chest, poking and prodding your insides. Something red and thick is bubbling from your clothes, and it smells vile.

His arm thrusts forward suddenly, and you scream, strangled and weak.

"Hush, now," his voice is airy, like perfume blown in your ears. "It will be over soon…"

All you can see are two red eyes and a row of pointed teeth. There is one more sharp twist of torment.

And then the end.


	11. 9

_Setting: a stately office, circa 1880s, with a large, elegant window in the back, shedding light over the room. Before the window, there is a large desk; its surface is clear. The office is empty save for CIEL, a thirteen-year-old boy seated at the desk. He is bored. Ten seconds pass while CIEL is playing with a fountain pen. _

CIEL

(_frowning) _This is so dull. SEBASTIAN should have presented the schedule hours ago, where could he be?

_Another ten seconds pass. _

CIEL

_(irritated) _SEBASTIAN!

_Enter SEBASTIAN stage right. The butler approaches the desk and bows, professional as always. _

SEBASTIAN

_(emotionlessly) _Yes, my lord.

CIEL

_(unhands fountain pen and glares) _What is my schedule for today?

SEBASTIAN

_(flat) _You do not have one, lord.

CIEL

_(stupefied) _Pardon?

SEBASTIAN

_(sigh) _I am afraid no itinerary has been recorded for this date. All of your lessons have been canceled, there has been no word from Her Majesty, and the servants are carrying their duties soundlessly.

CIEL

_(in shock) _So…I'm free?

SEBASTIAN

_(scratches left hand) _In a manner of speaking, yes.

CIEL

_(cups chin in hand) _I see…in that case, SEBASTIAN, I would like you to prepare-

_CIEL is cut off abruptly as door stage right is blown apart. SEBASTIAN and CIEL stare right as CLAUDE and ALOIS enter with much fanfare. _

CIEL

_(blinks, then incredulous) _ALOIS? What the bloody hell are you doing here!

ALOIS

_(maniacally) _Why, my dear boy, isn't it convenient that you phrased it that way. 

CIEL

_(furious) _I've no time for your lunacy, Trancy!

ALOIS

Very well, I was about to tell you anyway: Bloody hell called me here.

_Momentary silence. CIEL appears to be lost for words while ALOIS grins triumphantly. CLAUDE and SEBASTIAN watch each other like herons about to dive for a fish. _

CIEL

_(mutters) _Dare I ask?

ALOIS

CLAUDE's been going on and on about the 'flavor of Ciel Phantomhive's soul' when he thinks I'm not listening. It's disgusting, disturbing, and annoying as hell!

SEBASTIAN

_(curtly) _I must ask the young highness to refrain from using CLAUDE's and my own place of residence as a pun. It is tasteless and frankly insulting.

_SEBASTIAN is wholly ignored._

CIEL

And so?

ALOIS

And so I've decided to come and swallow your soul for myself! That way neither SEBASTIAN nor CLAUDE can have it.

CLAUDE

_(bows, hand over his heart, monotone) _Begging pardon, Highness, but it is impossible for a human to devour the soul of a fellow human.

ALOIS  
_(bitchslaps CLAUDE like there's no tomorrow) _Did I say you could speak, dog?

_SEBASTIAN snickers, and CIEL is beginning to look bored again. _

CIEL

_(waves hand) _well, as entertaining as this whole farce has been, I'm a busy man-

ALOIS

_(indignant protest) _Don't you shove me aside! I am Alois, Earl Trancy, and you are going to pay for seducing my butler!

_CIEL's face turns red and SEBASTIAN can't help laughing. _

CIEL

_(beyond furious) _You vile son-of-a whore, I've done no such thing!

ALOIS

Prove it. I challenge you to a duel, CIEL Phantomhive!

CIEL

_(nods, determined) _I accept. I swear on my title as the Queen's Guard Dog, I shall royally decimate your ass!

ALOIS

_(solemn) _I'll fight, and I'll win. For CLAUDE's violated honor!

CLAUDE

_(Is beginning to feel self-conscious)_

_All march out stage right, in order of: ALOIS, CIEL, CLAUDE, SEBASTIAN, who picks up the broken door on his way out. End scene._

_Setting: Grassy meadow. CIEL and ALOIS can be seen on opposite sides of the stage, glowering respectively and flanked by their butlers. Viscount DRUITT is center stage holding a wreath of flowers. _

DRUITT  
_(loud and clear) _If both parties are ready, the duel shall commence!

CIEL

_(growl to self) _ALOIS Trancy, I will end you.

ALOIS

_(smug grin) _CIEL Phantomhive, you will be mine.

CLAUDE  
_(with strained patience) _Pardon, Highness, a duel is not necessary. My honor is completely intact, I assure you. And the soul of Earl Phantomhive-

ALOIS

_(frustrated) _Don't you dare mention his soul again! You don't know what you're saying, CLAUDE, you've been disgraced.

CLAUDE

_(adjusts glasses) _Even if I had been, Master, I am fully capable of exacting vengeance on my own.

ALOIS  
_(bursts into tears, hugging CLAUDE around the waist) _Oh, my CLAUDE! How naïve you are! Please, never change.

CIEL

_(Facepalm) _Honestly, what a display.

DRUITT  
_(unused to being forgotten) _Er…are both parties ready?

CIEL

Yes, Viscount. Proceed.

DRUITT

_(throws hand up into the air with flair) _Very well! The duel is a simple thing. Both men will meet in the center of the meadow, choose their weapon and then stand with their backs together. At the call of 'allay'. You shall each take ten steps in-

SOMA

_(panicked desperation) _CIEL!

_All turn in shock as SOMA and AGNI barrel on stage left and envelope CIEL in tearful hugs. _

CIEL

_(struggling against SOMA's grip) _What in the blazes-! Get off me!

SOMA

_(tears obstructing his voice and vision) _No, CIEL! I cannot allow you to throw away your life so easily!

AGNI

_(hearty agreement) _The Prince is right, Lord Phantomhive. Your life is invaluable-

CIEL

_(violent protest)_ Oh for the love of-! Leave me alone, this is my business not yours!

SEBASTIAN

_(Plucks SOMA and AGNI from his master like so many berries from a bush) _I am afraid my Lord is correct, AGNI.

SOMA

_(fails to comprehend why SEBASTIAN is not in their favor) _Y-you are his khansama! How can you stand for this, this stupid practice!

ALOIS

_(distantly calling) _Hey! Who are those loons and what are they doing to my Ci-Ci?

CIEL

_(freezes in abject horror) _…Ci-Ci…

AGNI

_(surprise, and concern) _Earl Trancy, you are involved in this as well?

ALOIS

Obviously, you ruddy idiot! Who did you think he was dueling, his charming wit?

SOMA

_(without missing a beat) _Lord Trancy, I will not allow you to endanger yourself either!

ALOIS

I wasn't asking for your permission.

SOMA

_(throws himself at ALOIS in a bone-crushing glomp) _No! Feel my love and return to the path of light!

CLAUDE

_(effortlessly deflects SOMA-torpedo) _

SEBASTIAN

_(loud, authoritative voice) _Prince SOMA, AGNI, I must insist that you remove yourselves from the field. We are all very much anticipating the outcome of this duel.

_Stage left, Grim Reapers GRELL, WILL, RONALD, and UNDERTAKER can be seen excitedly exchanging coins._

UNDERTAKER

_(merrily) _Oh yes, I've a lot riding on this one.

WILL

_(Monotone, adjust glasses) _I'm only here to babysit these three. I'm not interested.

CIEL

_(extremely aggravated) _Will the lot of you please just leave! I don't know how much longer I'll be able to prevent myself from eviscerating that wretch!

ALOIS

_(tearful) _Is that what you really think of me, Ci-Ci?

CIEL

_(thrashing about) _And don't ever say that again! I don't know what it means, but it perturbs me to my very core!

ALOIS

_(suggestively) _If you'd like, I could perturb deeper.

SEBASTIAN

_(has collapsed into heaps of laughter)_

CIEL

_(sanity has been shattered) _Enough! ALOIS Trancy, arm yourself and prepare for combat!

SOMA  
_(despair) _No, don't do this! Stop, please!

SEBASTIAN

_(slaps a large hand over SOMA's mouth while grabbing a bowl of popcorn with the other) _

UNDERTAKER

_(offers a pouch of something to RONALD, who takes it reluctantly) _Go ahead, have those. I'm so excited I couldn't eat them anyway.

RONALD  
_(peeks into the bag, then makes a face and immediately shuts it) _

GRELL

_(peering at SEBASTIAN as he enjoys his snack and entertainment, lovesick) _Perhaps Bassy can find it somewhere in his heart to share with me? After all, we Reapers have large appetites!

_GRELL makes a lunge for SEBASTIAN, who sidesteps and ignores him entirely. GRELL lands on the ground with much fanfare. _

DRUITT  
_(announcement) _will the duelers please present their weapons.

ALOIS

Very well. I choose-

HANNAH

_(launches on stage right and throws herself at ALOIS' feet) _No, master!

CIEL

Not another one, what is it with you people?

HANNAH

_(desperation) _Highness, it was not CIEL who has been seducing CLAUDE, it was-

ALOIS  
Shut up, HANNAH, no one gives a fuck what you have to say.

CLAUDE

I'm beginning to feel disturbed…

_(The demon triplets, who exit and enter stage right, promptly remove HANNAH from stage) _

DRUITT

Then without further delay, the gentlemen shall gather in the center of the field.

_CIEL and ALOIS approach center stage, facing each other. CIEL is armed with a fencing rapier, ALOIS is holding a kitten. _

CIEL

_(laughing in disbelief) _That's your weapon? You're going to defeat me with that fleabag?

ALOIS

_(smile) _You're allergic to them, aren't you?

_As DRUITT reads the rules in a bland, monotone voice, it dawns on CIEL that he is indeed allergic to cats. _

CIEL

_(terrified) _N-no, that's not fair. That must be a violation in some way!

DRUITT

_(shrug) _Master Trancy is permitted to use any form of weaponry he sees fit.

CIEL

_(indignant protest) _That's not a weapon!

ALOIS

_(growing more smug by the moment) _It is capable of injuring you; that makes it deadly.

_The kitten mewls innocently as ALOIS lets out a cruel chuckle. CIEL has begun to tremble and sneeze. His face is white and his rapier's point swings from side to side. _

DRUITT  
_(backing away) _The duel commences now!

_ALOIS and CIEL turn back-to-back. DRUITT calls 'allay' and they begin to move one step at a time._

CIEL & ALOIS

One, two, three, four, five-

_At five, ALOIS turns and hurls the kitten at CIEL's neck. It bounces off harmlessly, and CIEL stumbles forward a touch. _

CIEL

_(angrily, though somewhat congested) _You cheat! I demand he be disqualified!

_The Grim Reapers exchange coins again, with appreciative murmuring from UNDERTAKER. _

ALOIS

_(dives to pick up kitten again) _

CIEL

_(brandishes rapier, tightens grip) _Fine, I can see how far authority goes here…

ALOIS  
_(exclamation) _You will be mine, Ci-Ci!

_ALOIS tosses the kitten for a second time, and CIEL catches it with his right hand, stooping a little from the impact. _

CIEL

_(arrogant smile) _Your luck has finally deserted you, little spider.

_CIEL straightens and holds the struggling kitten away from him. With his other hand, he brings the rapier level with the kitten's head. ALOIS is dumbstruck._

ALOIS

_(lip curls) _You…you wouldn't. You wouldn't kill a helpless kitten, that's heartless!

CIEL

Have you ever known a Phantomhive to be merciful?

ALOIS

_(shakes head firmly) _No, you won't do it! I know you, CIEL, we're basically the same!

CIEL

I would not come to an official duel armed with a feline!

ALOIS  
Aside from that, I meant.

CIEL

You've played well, Trancy, but it's time to end our game.

_CIEL steels himself and attempts to thrust the rapier straight through the kitten's body, much to ALOIS' despair. However, the sword is effortlessly plucked from CIEL's hand before it can cause any damage. CIEL blinks, shocked. _

SEBASTIAN

_(snaps rapier in half) _Apologies, master.

CIEL

What the bloody hell, Sebastian.

SEBASTIAN

_(tosses broken rapier away and removes kitten from CIEL, too. CIEL responds by sneezing violently and sniveling) _I could not allow any harm to befall a creature so blameless.

ALOIS

Hey, that's mine! Butler, bring that kitten to me right now!

SEBASTIAN

_(coldly) _I do not approve of the use of young felines as murder weapons.

CIEL

_(large sigh) _You know, this whole ceremony has been a bloody waste of time. Take me home, SEBASTIAN. And get rid of that…thing.

SEBASTIAN

_(bows with a small smile) _Yes, my lord.

ALOIS

_(numb protest) _But…you can't just bail out. That's forfeiting!

CIEL

_(shrug) _Then I forfeit.

ALOIS

What about CLAUDE's honor? His dignity?

CIEL

Have you seen CLAUDE round these parts recently?

_All survey stage to find that CLAUDE has mysteriously exited some time previous. The Grim Reapers are sipping tea and gossiping, and DRUITT is powdering his nose. _

ALOIS

But…but…

SEBASTIAN

Come, young master.

_CIEL and SEBASTIAN exit stage left. Curtain falls on ALOIS and the Reapers, as UNDERTAKER exclaims:_

UNDERTAKER

_(uncontrolled happiness) _Ooh, I found a nickel!


	12. 10

May, 1903

England

It is one of the greatest ironies Sebastian Michaelis has ever known.

Ciel Phantomhive's son is half-demon.

Sebastian remembers the day he was born perfectly. It had been a warm spring evening, and the Earl and Countess were seated on the veranda overlooking the front gardens. Such a peaceful moment, with the sun sloping gently on the horizon, lending its golden hue to the waters of the fountain. Sebastian recalls the noble couple's hands meeting as he served a pot of tea. The look on his master's face was one of contentment, which Sebastian could only scoff at. Ciel Phantomhive was no longer human; such pleasures should have been beyond his reach.

And then it all changed as the lady Elizabeth's breath hitched and she squeezed her husband's hand tighter. With their demonic capabilities and the lady's delirium, the trip to London was swift and efficient. Within an hour of her launch into labor, the Countess was safely tucked away at the Royal Hospital.

As he patrols the night-dimmed halls of the manor (his duty as master butler), Sebastian remembers laying eyes on the babe for the first time. He and his master had been made to wait outside the birthing room, where Ciel pretended not to worry.

And yet with every cry of pain Elizabeth unleashed, the young master shuddered. This retained form of humanity irritated Sebastian; it shouldn't be so, he thought. The suffering of humans should not disturb him; it should entice him to feast. It should make him hungry.

But when the ordeal was over and a baby's wailings pierced the Hospital, the Earl's face relaxed and he seemed happy. Sebastian watched from the back of the room as the new parents stared at their child in wonder. Elizabeth laughed, a shaky, tired laugh, when their son opened his eyes.

"Look," she'd said, resting her head on her husband's shoulder, "They're just like yours."

Yes, Sebastian seethed. Another pair of perfect blue eyes to mock him forever.

Ciel was either oblivious to his servant's frustration or simply too occupied to care. Either way, Sebastian received no orders that week except one: _do not let any harm come to the child. _

At first, the Butler had argued it was not his station to nurse babies. He suggested they hire a nanny, even offered to scout one out for them. But Lord Phantomhive would have absolutely none of it.

"Sebastian," The demon recalls his words in the exact, stern manner in which they were delivered, "you are the only being in this world that I can trust. Until the day you devour my soul, your loyalty belongs to me alone. And you will protect my son just as meticulously as you protect me."

"Yes, my lord." Sebastian mutters now to the empty hall. Its only responses are his own muffled footsteps as he draws near to the child's room.

Eight years have passed since that day. Ciel Phantomhive would be twenty-eight by Christmas, and a demon for half that number.

The butler halts before the door to the nursery. Thanks to the electric lights that now stud the manor, Sebastian's hand is free to reach the knob (though at times he misses his candelabra, thinking it an item of office).

Mr. Michaelis furrows his brows, because no matter how closely he listens he can detect not a peep from inside the little lord's room. There is no gentle breathing or twisting of sheets. The scent leaking from under the door is that of the master's son, but that does not necessarily mean he is inside.

Sighing, Sebastian opens the door and enters the child's room.

"Young master?"

Silence and darkness are his received greetings.

Light footsteps sound as the Butler approaches the bed, eyes combing the bundled figure resting on it. Again, he perceives no movement, though the scent of the eight-year-old's soul is overpowering. Sebastian wonders if the master is not attracted to his son's soul. Its aroma is mouth-watering indeed: it carries its mother's innocence and love, but its father's treachery and cunning. Even if there is some trace of a demon sleeping in that tiny frame, it is still too faint to ruin the dish.

Yes, the young master would make a fine meal, assuming he isn't left to spoil.

"Young master?" Mr. Michaelis repeats in a firm whisper. The bundle does not stir.

The demon's suspicions are proven correct as he hoists the quilts up to reveal a remarkable lack of young master beneath them. He does discover a cleverly placed mound of pillows, however.

"Bother."

It seems the boy has inherited a dash too much of his mother's audacity, Sebastian thinks as he sprints down the road. It took him a few moments after finding that the bed was empty to realize that the boy had long since escaped. He'd used a bed sheet to climb from the window and had apparently fled the manor barefoot.

Catching him is no difficult feat, though. Sebastian can smell the half-breed a mile off, and is only a few seconds from retrieving him at this point.

Yes, it is just as he imagined. The young master's son is walking (staggering) the dirt road to London, his breath labored and his clothes ruined.

"Would it not be more efficient to take a cab, sir?"

As he has been bound in servitude for eternity, Sebastian does not experience pleasure often. Therefore, when the boy gives startled yelp and turns, mouth agape in horror, Sebastian resolves to savor every moment.

"S-Sebastian!" He declares in a voice identical to his father's.

The Butler smiles.

"Whatever possessed you to abandon your own home, master?" Sebastian wonders as he steps closer. He bends before the boy and examines the state of his nightshirt, then his skin.

"Goodness, you're chilled to the bone-"

"Stop it."

Sebastian starts as his hand is slapped away. He stares up at the boy curiously.

The young master steps back, light hair seemingly black in the night.

"I…wanted to see her again."

"See whom?"

The heir of Phantomhive bites his lip and exhibits a certain unwillingness to speak. He bows his head as he mumbles his answer:

"Lady Jessica."

Understanding softens the previously cruel features of Sebastian's face. The Lady Jessica is a daughter of one of the Countess' old friends, and the young master's playmate of many years.

However, in recent months the girl had caught ill, and is now bedridden. Though Ciel has sworn Sebastian not to inform his son, Lady Jessica is not expected to recover.

"And why could your visit not wait till morning, master?" Sebastian asks gently, "Lady Jessica needs her rest."

"I know that," The boy snaps impatiently, but then his anger fades and gives way to confusion, "…I just have this feeling."

"Feeling, sir?" Now the Butler is growing curious. There is a glint to the child's eyes, a reddish hue.

"As if Jessica is going far away," He explains solemnly, "And if I don't see her soon…I may not get to see her ever again!"

"Young master," Sebastian sighs and rocks back to his feet. Perhaps he is mistaken. After all, it's too early for the boy to grow stale. "Lady Jessica is with her family, which is where you should be as well this time of night-"

"No! I need to see her!"

The demon steps back. He watches keenly as the little one's eyes grow large and red, and he whispers:

"She knows how to make the hunger go away."

Mr. Michaelis flattens his tone and frowns, "Hunger? I'm afraid I can serve nothing at this hour."

"You don't understand!" The eight-year-old yells, exasperated. Beads of sweat line his face and he swallows hard. "Just let me go and see her, please!"

This night may be interesting yet.

"Yes, my lord."

The child has no objection to Sebastian lifting him up and dashing down the road with him because he is, at this point, in tears. The Butler checks his pocket-watch briefly and notes the limited hours till sunrise.

Choked words, slick with sobs, fall into Sebastian's ears:

"It hurts, it hurts so much."

Even though he doesn't want to, Michaelis begins to smell a familiar scent: the bitter, vile stench of a fellow demon. He realizes something in the Lady's soul (which is not of the butler's preference, but to each his own) must be absolutely tantalizing to the infant devil, and is awakening him earlier than usual.

And now he cries, because he is hungry.

They arrive at the manor swiftly. Sebastian insists upon grooming the young master to a minor degree before allowing him to enter, but due to the lack of proper clothes they are forced to avoid the main gate anyway. Sebastian suggests the Lady's window, and the young master concurs.

"Will you help me up then, Sebastian?"

The butler wordlessly obeys his master's child and lifts him up to the wide frame, where he slips open the window and sneaks in.

What happens in that room is no mystery to Sebastian. He has long suspected Lady Jessica's illness to be unnatural, but he failed to allocate the credit. Ciel's son is more resourceful and cunning than the elder demon reckoned.

His hunger had truly awakened months ago. Jessica found a way to feed him her soul, bit by bit, staving off the brutal craving. A charming revelation, actually, and especially sweet as Sebastian assumes neither child understands the consequences of their exchange.

When the boy's voice summons him, he is not crying.

Sebastian retrieves the eight-year-old from the window and sets him on the ground, mindful of the iridescent scarlet in his eyes.

"Shall we, young master?"

He nods numbly, but on the way back the child begins to grin most wickedly.

"I stopped her. She won't leave me now, not ever."

"Are you still hungry, lord?"

Sebastian admits the amount of demons he finds himself in company with irks him some.

"No."

Sebastian thinks nothing of this event until the following afternoon, when he is summoned to the Earl's study.

Ciel glares at his butler, saying nothing. Sebastian continues to stand obedient.

"Why did you do it?"

"Do what, my lord?"

Ciel displays impatience reminiscent of his son's, "Lady Jessica died last night."

The black demon waits for his charge to proceed.

"Her soul was missing, Sebastian. I don't recall giving you leave to feast."

"Indeed, you have done no such thing, sir. I am ravenous as always."

Lord Phantomhive's eye narrows, "Then who?"

Sebastian only smiles.

"You're hiding something-"

"I do not lie."

"The soul of a little girl has been devoured and you care nothing-?"

"No, I do not." Sebastian lashes back, almost challengingly, "And neither should you. Have you forgotten? You are a demon, lord. What certainty do I have that _you _are not our culprit?"

Ciel's brows rise dangerously and his voice lowers itself, "You dare accuse your master?"

"I accuse Earl Phantomhive of nothing," The Butler replies, "however, I advise him to consider his current state of affairs."

"Enough of this inane nonsense," Lord Phantomhive mutters as his fingers move to stroke his eye patch, resting over the seal of the contract. "I order you to find the demon responsible for Lady Jessica's soul and bring him to me."

Despite the mounting work in his office, Ciel cannot stay. He waits until Sebastian has bowed and exited before leaving himself and heading for his son's chambers. He expects that is where he will find the Countess.

He is not disappointed. Silently, he opens the door and steps into the lavish little room. He is careful to approach slowly, lest he startle the two figures gathered on the bed. However his efforts are for nothing, as the Countess seems so lost in thought that she doesn't even lift her eyes.

"Elizabeth," Ciel calls to her gently, taking a seat beside her on the firm mattress. She ignores him, focusing her attention on the sleeping boy in her lap. The Earl watches as she runs her fingers through his bronze locks, weighing each one as though about to give them up.

"I was with Mary when they told her," She whispers, "when she heard about poor Jessica, she…"

The Countess pauses. Her voice seems to be leaving all on its own.

"She broke."

"Lizzie," Ciel murmurs, embracing her and resting his head on her shoulder. The soothing scent of vanilla fills his nose.

"I can't imagine what it's like to lose a child. To have seen a life begin and end so quickly."

Lord Phantomhive wants to say something, reassure her somehow. But the words do not come.

"If," Lizzie sniffs, gazing down on her son as though committing him to memory, "If anything ever happens to him-"

"It won't."

"You don't know that!"

And now the tears come. Elizabeth finally breaks her lock on the boy and turns to stare at her husband. Her face is flushed now with grief and fear, and her eyes are shimmering green pools.

"Nothing was wrong with Jessica," The Countess explains miserably, "She was completely healthy. Then one day she just collapses and no one knows why. It could have happened to anyone."

Ciel listens to his wife and allows her to mourn. But as a grown woman, Elizabeth's bursts have shortened, and after another sob she is composed again.

"Mother?"

The couple starts briefly as the Phantomhive heir blinks himself awake.

"Y-yes, darling?" Lizzie replies, smiling faintly.

The child yawns and rubs his eyes. He nods towards his father, acknowledging him.

"I'm hungry."

Elizabeth's hand caresses his face, which is so like his father's. She says, "We'll get you a nice cup of a tea and some biscuits. How does that sound?"

"I would like that."

She gives him a quick (but, Ciel sees, heartbroken) kiss on the forehead, and then the Countess of Phantomhive stands to exit the room.

Ciel waits until his wife has closed the door behind her, then heaves a sigh. The little Earl stares at him emptily, and Ciel imagines he already knows. Still, he steels himself and informs the boy tonelessly:

"Lady Jessica passed away last night."

There is a silence. But when Lord Phantomhive turns towards his son he is met with an unpleasant surprise.

The boy refuses to speak, but his face is pinched into a tight frown and his eyes…

"Father, I'm hungry again."

Ciel cannot help the revulsion that crashes over him like a tide over shore. It can't be, he's only eight. He knows that the Lady Jessica was a close friend of the heir, but surely-

"Surprised? You shouldn't be."

Ah, the Earl thinks, disbelief quickly hardening into anger, the crow has come to pick another carcass.

"_You._" It is not the first time Ciel has addressed his grinning butler with such malice.

Sebastian's smirk widens as he closes the door.

"After all, a growing boy needs his sustenance. Have you learned nothing from your own childhood, master?"

"You were behind it all." The Earl accuses. He spares his son another glance, but the boy's eyes have gone wide and red. He seems to be in a sort of trance.

"I cannot claim credit for everything, sir." Sebastian admits, "Your child has every bit the sizeable appetite. Devouring Lady Jessica was his idea."

"You will not shift the blame onto my son-!"

"I do not lie, young master." The demon's smile became something ugly and proud, his fangs baring themselves.

Ciel blinks, his fury dimming a bit. He remembers the first meal, how ravenous he had been. How even though he'd promised to be cautious and sensitive, he had ripped the soul from the body and swallowed it whole.

And then he craved the next feast.

"The only way to control a demon's appetite is through practice, as I'm sure you understand by now. The boy is green and it will take time for him to accustom."

The Butler's words roll off him as Ciel realizes one of the greatest ironies he has ever known.

His son is half demon.


	13. Art trade with GodBlessTheDucks

January, 1887

England

Little fingers pried at the book's base, trying fruitlessly to lift it from the shelf. After a moment of watching his master struggle piteously, butler Sebastian Michaelis removed the tome and handed it to the young boy wordlessly.

Ciel Phantomhive frowned as he flipped through the book's dusty, moth eaten pages. However, he was quick to shut the old relic and offer it to his servant with an annoyed 'tsk'.

"Well, it wasn't that one."

"No," Sebastian agreed, and heaved a sigh. He didn't like the feel of the library, as though the thousands of books were watching him from their lofty perches. "Shall we proceed to the next eight-hundred and ninety-seven tomes, master?"

Again, the Earl let out an utterance of irritation.

"We don't have time to check every single one. Earl Roberts will be here in half an hour, and if he finds that diary before we do the case may as well be closed."

The Butler lifted an eyebrow, "What makes you think Earl Roberts knows where to find it?"

Ciel paused, a finger coming to rest below his chin, "There was one clue…the doctor's note said that we would find his journal with 'the dark outcast of Helena'."

"Helena is most likely an allusion to Greece, which calls itself Helenus. As for the dark outcast, Greek mythology does speak of a banished god of mischief and mistrust, Erebus."

"The journal must be hidden amongst Greek literature, then."

Due to the intensity of their discussion, the boy and the Butler had failed to notice the approaching footsteps.

"E-excuse me."

The two looked up, startled. A young woman stood but a few yards away, a clipboard nestled under her arm. She appeared somewhat confused at first, but her expression soon hardened.

"I'm afraid I must ask you to leave. The library is closed by request of the Earl Roberts."

"Our business is urgent," Ciel replied, "It will only take a moment."

The librarian shook her head, "You will have to return to complete it later. Normal hours will resume after three o'clock."

The Queen's guard dog scowled, but complied with the woman's wishes and turned to leave.

"Sebastian," He murmured, "I'm going to find that diary. I don't want to be interrupted again, understood? I will call for you when I've retrieved it."

"Yes, my young lord."

-TT-

Lillian blinked hard and shook herself. The spidery line of writing in the ledger became clearer, but no less indecipherable.

She sighed and gently dragged the record book's page across its spine, preparing a pen in her other hand. It was a dull job, maintaining the library's memos, but it was still a job. And Lillian appreciated the fact that it was hers more and more every day. After all, not many heard of a woman working a place as distinguished as a hall of books…

And she'd always been a fan of reading, Lillian reminded herself with a small smile. When she was a child, her mother would read to her as she fell asleep. If she closed her eyes, Lillian could almost hear the words now, could feel the warm blanket around her shoulders…

"Pardon me."

The Librarian started and the pen dropped from her hand, spilling ink over the previously illegible script. She looked up from behind her desk as the newcomer approached.

"Oh, it's you," She greeted, recognizing him as the gentleman accompanying the young boy she'd seen roaming the halls earlier, "I've already told you the library's closed."

"Yes," He smiled politely, "but I seem to have misplaced an item of mine whilst browsing. Might you help me recover it? After all, you know this room much better than I."

When Lillian responded, she found herself rising (though it did her little good, as even at full height the butler's head reached over her own by a foot).

"I cannot, sir. I'm sorry."

"No?"

He stepped back slightly and his brows knitted together in an expression of concern, almost perplexity. His lips pressed themselves flat and a gloved hand came to rest beside them.

"What's wrong?" She asked, slightly alarmed at his change of temperament.

"Nothing," The Butler assured her, but his face remained troubled, "Only…the object lost was given to me by my departed sister."

"Your sister?" Lillian repeated, leaning forward and studying the man. She was particularly close to her own female sibling, as it happened.

"Yes," He nodded sorrowfully, "That pendant is all I have left of her now. I…" The dark-haired servant hesitated and bowed his head, "I cannot bear losing it."

The Librarian softened. She turned her gaze downward, onto the pile of records that needed shifting and the blot of ink that would now need cleaning. Then the lifted her eyes to the tall, distraught butler in black, whose brown orbs met hers in a sort of plea.

Twelve-thirty, said the desk clock. That meant Earl Roberts would be arriving in twenty-five minutes. How long could it take to find a little necklace?

"Alright," She sighed and exited the desk, walking around its right side to meet the Butler. "Where were you when you lost it?"

He relaxed and the corners of his mouth lifted upwards in a satisfied smile, "This way, miss."

As the library was quite large, Sebastian took his time navigating the labyrinth of bookshelf-walls. Their footsteps bounced off the hundreds of tomes they passed and echoed through the hall, supplying a feeling of quiet isolation.

The Butler slipped his hand into his pocket and retrieved his watch, sparing it a brief glance. The young master had twenty-three minutes to find the diary. Sebastian imagined that would not be long enough.

Replacing the watch in his coat, Sebastian came to a halt and turned to face his companion, analyzing her quickly. She was pretty, that much was indisputable: a well-rounded face with rosy cheeks, large grey eyes behind a pair of spectacles, and a well-maintained curtain of satiny blonde hair. While she would not appeal to the average Englishman, Sebastian surmised an intelligent scholar would find her positively ravishing.

However, he frowned, she did not meet his tastes at all. Her soul reeked of obedience. This young woman had not been dealt as kindly in life as others, but she did not complain. She had a great deal of respect for her parents, love for her family, and trust in her country. She would carry out whatever orders were given her without question.

In other words, she was boring.

An Angel's ideal, he scoffed, but not something a Devil should touch.

"Is something the matter, sir?" She wondered, taking a step closer and pushing up her glasses.

Sebastian smiled kindly and shook his head, "Apologies, I seem to have lost myself in thought."

The Librarian returned the gesture, "Well, we ought to find that pendant of yours now. Which shelf were you examining?"

The Butler showed her the one beside him, and they began to search. Sebastian kept a careful eye on his pocketwatch, allowing four minutes of time to pass before opening his mouth:

"Do you write, miss?"

She sounded surprised when she responded, "What do you mean?"

"You simply struck me as the type who enjoys a good read. And after so many years of indulging in the writings of others, why not try spinning a thread of your own?"

A few seconds of silence, and then she admitted:

"Well, it's true I enjoy a nice story."

The Librarian moved to replace the book she had been checking on the shelf, but a gloved hand prevented her.

Lillian turned slowly to see the Butler looming over her, his friendly smile now more of a grin.

"Would you like to hear one, then?"

"S-sir," She said, face heating at their proximity, "I don't think-"

"Come now," He slid her hand forward until the tome had been returned and then brought her wrist back down to her side. She did not resist. "It's just the two of us, I promise."

"Besides," He chuckled and stepped even closer, a white glove coming to rest on her waist. The Butler leaned forward and whispered in her ear: "This isn't the type of tale you'd want to miss."

Boring as she might have been, Sebastian still took pleasure in the amount of warmth radiating from her body. Manipulating mortals was a particular habit of his, one he'd had much more time to practice since being employed by the young Earl.

"Sir, I…" Her protest was two words now instead of four.

But a protest was still a protest, which meant (as the clock was still ticking and Sebastian had now only eighteen minutes) the game required ascension in level.

Sebastian slowly, gently lifted his fingers to her cheek, forcing her to make eye contact with him. He teased the spectacles from behind her ears and placed them silently on the bookshelf.

"You have such round eyes," He murmured, "yet they are so cautious…"

She could no longer speak, but he could smell fear. Her lip quivered and her hands shook.

"Sh," Sebastian embraced her, laying her head on his shoulder, "There's no need to be afraid. You can trust me, little one."

"Sir…"

"I know. You've never had a lover before. You must be so lonely, sitting behind that desk for days, years without notice. So full of sparkling ideas that everyone ignores."

His hand caressed the small of her back as he whispered, "Always working, never rewarded. You yearn for an escape from this routine life of yours."

She pulled back from him ever so slightly, her long lashes bristled with tears. She parted her lips as though speaking, but no words left her.

Sebastian only smiled, "It's alright."

The Librarian lifted her heels, leaned into his chest and kissed him soundly.

Now, the Demon thought, we are making progress.

-TT-

Ciel heaved a sigh and shuddered. He gathered whatever strength he had under the banner of effort and shoved the dusty, heavy volume back onto its shelf.

Sebastian had departed twenty minutes ago, and Ciel still had not found the journal he sought. He was beginning to doubt its existence. Was there a chance he had misinterpreted the clue? No, Lord Phantomhive shook his head. That diary had to be here someplace. There were still forty-seven books in the Greek literature division that he hadn't flipped through, and the hand-sized piece of evidence could be loitering in any of them.

However, a quick look towards the library's clock threw a wrench in the boy's plan. In five minutes, Earl Roberts would burst into the room and claim every scrap of writing in it for himself. If Ciel didn't find the journal by then…

"Sebastian, this is an order." He muttered, pressing onto his tiptoes to reach the first of the forty-seven tomes, "Delay Earl Roberts' entrance."

-TT-

"Yes, my lord."

"Hm?" Lillian hummed, pulling lazily at his tie. His tailcoat had been discarded long ago.

Sebastian planted a kiss on her lips and slowly proceeded to her jaw, then upper neck. Her body shuddered beneath his and a quiet moan escaped her.

"I need a favor from you, will you oblige?" He asked smoothly, slipping a hand beneath her bodice to stroke the supple curves of her abdomen.

"Anything," She promised, muscles tensing at the wave of delight rolling through her veins.

He stared at her intently until she was forced to open her eyes and meet his.

"You will stall the Earl Roberts. Prevent him from entering the library at his appointed time."

"How?" She asked.

"Tell him there's been an accident. You needn't keep him long, ten minutes should suffice."

"Er, okay."

Sebastian helped her to her feet and redressed her in her wrap, fastening the sweater's tie elegantly.

"I'll be waiting here for your return." He smiled.

As the Butler expected, the Librarian's light footsteps brought her back to him soon. She explained that she had stolen the gate key, without which the Earl could not access the library's outer sanctum. Lillian would replace the key when Sebastian gave the word.

"I'm…not sure this is a good idea, though," She said anxiously, eyes darting about, "If it's discovered that I defied the Earl…"

The Devil's smile widened and he took her chin in his fingers.

"Good girl." He said simply before kissing her again.

She gasped in surprise, but her gasp melded into a soft moan. She felt her knees failing her once more. Fortunately, the Butler was there to catch her as she fell- slid, actually, as their bodies were so close together.

At first, Lillian had been an eager and willing participant in the odd story this stranger was telling her. But the second time around she was all but exhausted and took to merely leaning against him as he murmured in her ear. She was sure to absorb every moment, every lick of his tongue, every touch of his fingers. She memorized the scent of his hair and the pressing of his hips on hers.

In all of her twenty-four years, Lillian had never experienced euphoria like this.

Suddenly, there was a sharp noise. It sounded strange, like it didn't belong at all. Then it happened again, like a needle trying to pop her bubble of happiness.

It was a cough.

With blurry eyes, Lillian turned her head to find a child's shoe a few feet from her. It tapped impatiently.

"Are you done yet, Sebastian?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then let us depart. This place smells foul."

"Of course, sir."

The Librarian rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows, her mind a muddle. She watched as the child and the Butler walked further and further away, until finally they rounded the corner and disappeared.

Lillian was speechless. Before the library door swung shut, she heard the boy angrily mutter one last thing:

"You really are a demon."


End file.
